Major stress

I'm checking the mail on an hourly basis - waiting for the financial aid paperwork for Jessie's school. I'm really praying that we get enough aid to be able to send her to private school... she's going to be so disappointed if we can't. Not that I've let on to her how stressed I am, or that I'm just hoping these total strangers decide to give us enough money so that she can go - I just told her that Mommy and Daddy are still trying to decide which school would be best for her. And I know that wherever she goes, she'll do well, and that it's just kidnergarten. But still... I want her to get the very best education possible, in the best, most nurturing environment, and I think the NJA is the best choice. But they want $500 by April 12 and unless financial aid comes thru, my girl is going to public school :-(

Moving right along... all is well here. Sam is talking more and more - and has definitely started clearly saying "Dessi" - and now that he's realized how to say it and that she responds - he's just chanting her name. He's fallen totally in love with her, the other day, he cried so hard when she left him to go to dance class, he choked on a granola bar. He's demanding that she sleep next to him, sit with him, read with him, do everything with him. I worried a little bit that three and a half years would be too much, they wouldn't be as close as they could have been if it had been two years, but am happy to report that my two kids are closer than I've ever seen any two, except for Eric and Mandi when they were little :-)

Why I hate candy

We just survived Purim and Easter. Part of the joy of being in somewhat interfaith relationship is that we celebrate every freaking holiday imaginable. Purim was fun - I got to experiment with different recipes until I found a really good one for hamentaschen and we went down to the synagogue for the Purim carnival. Huge improvement over last year, Sam screamed like a lunatic thru the entire reading last year, I spent most of it hiding in a storage room at the Westboro JCC, trying to get far away from the noise. This year, he sat on my lap and was happy enough to wave around the noisemaker.

Then we had Easter - which was actually a really nice day. I had gotten the kids baskets and filled them with a couple of cute little toys and a serious minimum of candy, because I like to make sure that the kids don't eat junk. A little, sure, it's a holiday - and I'm not a zealot about it, but as a rule, I don't give the kids crappy food. We've had the same two bottles of soda in the fridge for months, because I don't let the kids drink it. I've had the same two half gallons of leftover ice cream since Jessie's birthday back in February. We had dinner at Annie's - awhich was fabulous, then we went to my mother's - which was also lovely (because my cranky sister had already left, and my horrible brother never showed at all).

But the girl got candy. Oh my gosh, did she get candy. And we've already had three knock down, dragged out screaming fights about it. She wants it all the time. Right now. And while I'm relaxed about many mothering things, I let them eat artificially flavored and colored cheese curls, I've given a two week old a taste of whipped cream - I flat out refuse to give her candy for breakfast. After lunch, I say. I'll let you have some after lunch. So she immediately starts clamoring for lunch. At 9:30. Lunch, nothing will do but lunch immediately, so that she can then move onto the candy. I've threatened to throw it out if she doesn't cut it out, and finally pacified her with three mini marshmellows (that way she feels like she won by getting junk but I wont because three mini marshmellows is nothing). But this whole battle has renewed my resolve to not ever, ever have candy in the house again. Easter and Halloween - my two least favorite holidays as a parent...

Finally, Jessie has found a reason for Sam to exist

He's willing, no, he's eager, to have her do 'make overs' on him. The poor kid doesn't know any better, and is so happy that she's interacting with him and treating him like a real person and not a baby, that he's thrilled to betsy to sit there and let her paint glitter and eye shadow and blush all over his tiny little boy face.

I wonder, sometimes, what influence having three (four if you count Glennys) older sisters is having on him. His every move is accompanied by hordes of girls - frequently on the weekends, he has trouble walking because they are all clustered around him. While I have no doubts that he's a hard core boy (the other day, he cried until Marc put on Conan the Barbarian for him), I am amused that he's also a big fan of pretty pink tutus and glitter on his cheeks.

She made it!

For the very first time, my girl made it thru the night dry. In big girl pants, no less. Very proud... although I confess that I got up at two o'clock in the morning to drag her into the potty. She's very proud of herself... very big step :-)

Had a busy day yesterday, between dance, and going to shull and then down to my sister's house. Then we brought all of the kids to the Chinese buffet and that went terribly. It'll be a while before I go back there with all of them again. Sarah was totally hyper and lunatic crazy and she and Glennys were both a little out of control. Sammy puked chicken up all over the place, and then scattered rice everywhere. One of those times when you know that every other person there is wishing that we'd just leave. One of my pet peeves is the kids being out of control at a restaurant. It makes me nuts.

I'm just chilling out today - Marc is going downstairs to play D&D with the guys until noontime and then he wants to go to the YMCA to go swimming... I'm not sure if I'm going to go along with the plan, I think hanging at home and relaxing might make more sense, yesterday was totally chaotic and we could use a break :-).

My five year old still has a pacifier

There, I said it. She has a fier, and I'm proud of her. She's brilliant, kind, creative and can be the most poised, talkative engaging child in the world. And most nights, she drifts off to sleep with her trusty fier in her mouth. I refuse to lecture her, take it away, make her feel like a baby or in any way make it a negative experience for her. And you know what, she's MY CHILD. Mine. That means that I get to make this decision and it should matter to nobody else. Marc, maybe. But even with that, he's pretty much made parenting decisions like that to be my thing.

Why do so many people think it's okay to criticize other people's parenting styles? I don't get it - there are LOTS of other parents out there, and for the most part, unless it's a blatant screw up, I don't comment. They might make choices that I wouldn't make, allow their children to get away with stuff I wouldn't tolerate, let their kids watch stuff I wouldn't, but it's none of my business. And I fully understand that what is the right decision for my children might not be the right decision for others. I'm not perfect, God knows I've screwed up lots of times as a parent - but for the most part, I'm pretty damn good at it. My children are gorgeous and healthy and happy and if you don't agree with my parenting, then just shut up about it. Okay?

Bitter, much? I'm so tired of being told that she needs to give up the pacifier. She likes it, okay? And she's a good kid, who's already growing up faster than I can keep up with. It's not like I'm giving her cocaine or heroin to sleep with. It's certainly not going to hurt her, and probably saves her teeth from being worn down to bits because she grinds her teeth in the middle of the night.

Nursing a Toddler

He's nursing like there's no tomorrow. Like he has to get it all in now, because it's going away. Which is accurate, actually. I'm finding more and more that I don't want to nurse. I don't want to be trapped in a chair, nursing for hours. Not anymore. I've gone for twenty months, longer than I had ever expected to. My original goal was a year. I'm going to be lucky if he stops before he's five. And the more impatient I get, the more I try to wean him, the harder it gets - he follows me around the house crying, asks to nurse every ten minutes. It's a complete catch 22 - the more I don't want to do it, the more desperately he needs to.

My new theory is that if I just let him nurse as much and as often as he wants, maybe he'll ease off a bit. He's actually sleeping, he nursed down to sleep at twenty after ten, which is ridiculously early. Maybe he's teething.

Again - have to state for the record how much I really LOVE staying home with the kids. On days like this, when Sam just wants to nurse 24/7, and nap two hours early - he can. No problems... Jess can run around with her hair not done, still in jammies, it's cool - no pressure here. They can just be kids - with no schedule or committments or things they have to do. I love it.

Other than the nursing irritation, my day is going wonderfully well. I'm decluttering - I tend to save crap I don't need, and it piles up all over the house. I organized the silverware drawer, adn am working on cleaning off the television, the bookshelf, and the ugly brown thing. Nothing feels better than throwing things out - which is why I don't understand why I only do it once or twice a month :-)

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